Episode 19: You Can't Go Home Again
by heisey
Summary: Jim and Karen work a case with Jim's old squad.
1. Chapter 1

Episode 19: "You Can't Go Home Again"

_Day One_

_Scene One_

Lt. Gary Fisk called from his office door, "Karen, Jim, my office, please."

When the two detectives were standing in front of his desk, he told them, "I just got off the phone with your old boss, Jim – Jack McConnell at the 2-5. They've got a DOA that may be related to one of your old cases. He asked if you could work it with them."

"What case?"

"Jack said it was Richie Milner. Do you remember that one?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, I do. A kid, 15 or 16, a runaway. They found him under the Triborough Bridge. We never really got anywhere with it. So what's the new case?"

"DOA is Richie's little sister, Kimmie."

"Damn," Jim muttered under his breath. Karen felt a little sick – she always hated it, when it was a kid, and based on the look on his face, Jim felt the same.

"I told Jack Russo and Selway could cover things here for a couple of days, unless the gangbangers decide to start going after each other again. Get going, and keep me informed. I want you back here as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir," Jim and Karen replied in unison.

As she drove uptown, Karen glanced over at Jim, wondering what was bothering him about this return to his old squad. He hadn't said anything, but the set of his jaw told her he was tense. She decided to break the ice. "So who will we be working with when we get there?" she asked.

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure the same guys I worked with are still there. It's been almost two years, and we didn't really keep in touch after I got shot."

"Oh." Karen fell silent, realizing what Jim had just told her. His squad, the guys who should have stuck by him, had abandoned him when he was shot and lost his sight. What kind of cop, what kind of friend, would do that? She hadn't even met the guys, and she despised them already.

_Scene Two_

Lt. Jack McConnell came out of his office when he heard a chorus of "Hey, Jimmy!" He resolutely ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach that kicked in when he saw Jim in dark glasses, following an attractive young woman and holding the handle of his guide dog's harness. He went to greet them. "Welcome back, Jimmy. This must be your partner, Detective Bettancourt?"

"Thanks, lieutenant," Jim replied, extending his hand. After McConnell shook his hand, Jim turned toward his partner. "Karen Bettancourt, Lieutenant Jack McConnell."

"Welcome to the 2-5," McConnell said. "If there's anything I can do for you while you're here, just let me know."

"Thanks, lieutenant."

Jim spoke up. "Who else is here from the old squad?"

"We're all here, Jimmy," said a tall black man of about fifty, with salt-and-pepper hair and weary eyes.

"Coop?"

"Yeah."

Turning to Karen, Jim made the introduction. "Harrison Cooper, known as 'Coop'."

"Karen Bettancourt," Karen replied coolly.

One by one, the other detectives in the squad introduced themselves. The sandy-haired man about Jim's age, a little shorter and stockier than Jim, was Mitch Kozlowski. Jorge "Junior" Morales, dark-haired, wiry and energetic, was the youngest of the group. When they introduced themselves, Karen responded to each of them with a curt nod. The three 25th Precinct detectives exchanged glances, puzzled by Karen's chilly manner.

"Where's Kev?" Jim asked, referring to Kevin Thomas, the fourth member of the squad.

"Boss sent him for IT training, so he can investigate all the high-tech crimes we get around here," Mitch told him, sarcastically.

Coop stared at Jim throughout the introductions. Finally, unable to contain himself, he enveloped Jim in a bear hug. "Damn, man, it's good to see you. . . ." He looked embarrassed as he released Jim from the hug. "Sorry, bad choice of words."

"Don't sweat it. It's good to see you, too."

Mitch and Junior glanced at each other. Then Mitch spoke up, ending the awkward silence. "Uh – so, Jimmy, what's the dog's name?"

"Hank."

"Hank – okay. So – is he, like, a Seeing Eye dog?"

Karen answered instead of Jim. "No, he's a drug-sniffing dog, what do you think?"

Coop, Mitch and Junior exchanged questioning looks. Then Junior asked, in a forced, hearty voice, "So, Jimmy, are they treating you good downtown?"

"Yeah," Jim replied, "It's been good."

"That's good," Junior said. He fell silent for a moment, then continued. "But they shoulda sent you back here – you know, where you belong. They shouldn't've made you start all over in a new squad like that. That's not right."

Jim shrugged, but before he could answer, McConnell interrupted. "Jimmy, Bettancourt, come into my office for a minute."

Jim ordered Hank to stay and turned to follow McConnell. He took a step, then stopped, looking lost. "Karen?" he asked. Damn, Karen thought, I should have anticipated this. She was so used to the confident way Jim moved around the squad room at the 8th Precinct, it hadn't occurred to her that he wouldn't know his way around a squad room where he'd worked before. But that was when he could see, you idiot, she reminded herself. Silently berating herself for making him ask for help in front of his old squad, Karen moved to Jim's side, murmuring, "Sorry."

"Not a problem," he answered softly as he took her arm. "I don't remember the old place as well as I thought I did."

As she guided Jim to McConnell's office, Karen glanced at Coop, seated at his desk to her right. He was staring at Jim with a mixture of sadness and pity.

When Karen and Jim were seated in his office, McConnell turned to Karen. "So, Bettancourt, who'd you piss off, that you got partnered up with this guy?"

Karen played along with the lieutenant's joke. "I wish I knew – I've been asking myself the same question for the past eight months."

With the preliminaries out of the way, McConnell briefed them about the case. "Kimmie Milner, 15 years old, was last seen leaving her school on Staten Island yesterday afternoon. Her dad had been in D.C. on a case – he's a lawyer, you remember – " Jim nodded. ". . . since day before yesterday, and she was staying with her aunt and uncle – the dad's brother and his wife. They live on Staten Island, too, about a half mile from her school. She never showed up at their house yesterday afternoon. She was found around six this morning under the Triborough Bridge, near where her brother Richie was found two and a half years ago. It looks like she was killed somewhere else and dumped there."

"That's different from Richie," Jim pointed out, "he was killed under the bridge, where he was found. What about Kimmie's cause of death?"

"Looks like that's the same as Richie – blunt force trauma to the head. We haven't found what he used, though, and we're still waiting on the autopsy results."

"Do you have a timeline yet?"

"School got out at three o'clock yesterday afternoon," McConnell related. "No one knows where she was after that. The last person who saw her was one of her friends, Amy Nicholas. They were leaving together, then Amy remembered she'd left something in her last classroom and went back inside. When she came back out, Kimmie was gone. Staten Island couldn't find anyone who saw her after that. Her aunt, Linda Milner, got home from work around six. When she realized Kimmie wasn't there and apparently hadn't been there since school let out, she started making calls, looking for her. Don Milner, Kimmie's uncle, got home from work around seven. He made some more calls, then went out looking for her. They reported her missing around 8:30."

"Where do you want us to start?" Jim asked.

"Since Richie was your case," McConnell told him, "I thought you could start there, try to find some connection to Kimmie's murder. Two kids in the same family being murdered is no coincidence. I've pulled the murder book on Richie and made copies of the reports we have on Kimmie so far." He paused, looking embarrassed. "Uh – how are you going to read them?"

"No problem. I scan the reports into my computer, and it reads them back to me."

"Slick," McConnell commented. "Ain't technology great?"

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "When it works."

"Well, get started, and let me know when you're up to speed. You can use the desks next to Coop's."

Karen took Jim to one of the desks, and he started setting up his laptop and scanner. Coop looked on intently for several minutes, while Jim located the proper ports and connections by touch. "Hey, Jimmy," he finally said, "can I give you a hand with that?"

"I've got it, thanks."

"No, really, I'd be glad to help out."

"I can handle it, okay?" Jim told him, sounding annoyed. Karen rolled her eyes and gave Coop a warning look, but he persisted.

"I'm just trying to help. . . ."

Jim sighed inwardly. "If I need your help, I'll ask for it. All right?"

"Whatever you say."

_Scene Three_

After a couple of hours listening to the computer-generated voice read back his old reports, Jim needed a break. Using his cane to navigate across the crowded squad room, he made his way to the locker room for a cup of coffee. Coop watched him, then followed. He found Jim at the coffee maker. Coop looked on silently as Jim carefully ran his hands over the coffee maker to find the coffee pot, then poured a cup of coffee, hooking a finger over the rim of the cup so he would know when it was full.

"Hey, Jimmy," he said, "so that's how you do that."

Startled, Jim put the coffee pot down, hard. "Don't do that."

"What?"

"Sneak up on me like that," Jim explained.

"Sorry," Coop said sheepishly. "I guess I have a lot to learn."

"Not really," Jim told him matter-of-factly. "It's mostly common sense. Just don't sneak up on me, and don't rearrange the furniture, and we're good."

"Okay." Coop looked at Jim. He had taken off his dark glasses while working at his desk, and Coop noticed the way his eyes were directed slightly down and to one side, not looking at anything. Suddenly it was too much for him, and he blurted out, "Shit, Jimmy, this sucks."

Jim seemed to look directly at him, then snapped, "I'm blind, Coop. Get over it." He gripped his cane, then turned away and walked out of the locker room.

As Jim returned to his desk, McConnell stuck his head out of his office door. "Jimmy, Karen," he called, "Mr. Milner is on his way in. You want to talk to him first?"

"Sure."

Jim was leaning against the edge of the table in the interview room when Karen escorted Richard Milner into the room, fifteen minutes later. Milner did a double-take when he saw Jim. "Detective Dunbar," he said, "I didn't expect to see you here."

Jim turned toward him. "I'm working downtown now, but they asked me to help out because I worked Richie's case. You've met my partner, Detective Bettancourt?"

"Yes," Milner replied. He paused for a moment, then continued, "I just want to say how shocked and saddened I was when I heard what happened to you. . . ."

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Jim told him.

"I can't believe it's happening again. You know, this is the same room where we talked two and a half years ago, after Richie. . . ." Milner buried his face in his hands, overcome by grief.

After giving Milner a few moments to compose himself, Karen spoke up. "I'm sure this is the last thing you want to do now, but can you think of anyone who would want to do this to both Richie and Kimmie?"

"No, _no_ – they were just kids. Why would anyone want to do this? Oh, God, they're all gone now – Ellen, Richie, Kimmie. . . .Why is this happening?" Milner couldn't continue.

Karen told him, "We'll give you a minute."

He nodded his understanding as Karen and Jim left the room. Outside, Karen asked, "What does he mean, 'they're all gone'? Who is 'Ellen'?"

"Ellen was his wife. She died of a heart attack about three years ago. Richie found her when he came home from school."

"Omigod," Karen murmured.

"According to his dad, Richie started spiraling downward after that. Milner said he seemed like a different kid. Milner got him into counseling, but it didn't help. He finally ran away from home, a couple of weeks before he was killed."

Karen shook her head sorrowfully. "Poor kid."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "You think he's ready for us to go back in?"

Karen stepped into the observation room and looked through the one-way glass. "I think so."

As they walked into the room, Milner looked up. "Are you okay to continue?" Karen asked.

"I – think so."

"You know we have to ask this. . . ," Karen began.

"Ask me anything," Milner told her.

"We've been told you were in D.C. yesterday, but can anyone confirm that?"

Milner swallowed. "I was in a deposition with my client and four other lawyers all day. After that, I had dinner with the client. I didn't get back to the hotel until around 10. There was a message from my brother. I'd had my cell phone off during the deposition, and I forgot to turn it back on . . . ." He broke off, hanging his head. "Damn."

"When did you get back?" Karen asked, trying to keep Milner focused.

"Around two in the morning. After I talked to Don, I went straight to the airport and caught the first flight I could get."

Jim reached out, found the table, and sat next to Milner. "How was Kimmie handling everything? It couldn't have been easy for her."

"She was doing surprisingly well," Milner replied. "Kids are resilient, you know. I got her into counseling right away, which really helped. . . ."

"Did you notice any changes in her behavior recently?" Jim asked.

"Now that you mention it. . . .it's probably not important, but she was kind of clingy before I left on this last trip. She didn't want me to go. Oh, God, why did I go?" Milner buried his face in his hands again.

Using the code they'd developed, Karen tapped the back of Jim's wrist twice to ask him if they were done with the interview. Jim nodded slightly and told Milner, "I think we're done for now, Mr. Milner. Thank you for coming in. We'll keep in touch."

Mitch and Junior came out of the observation room at the same time Jim and Karen left the interview room. Karen walked past them without a glance and headed down the hall.

When they were back at their desks, Mitch turned to Jim, "Hey, Jimmy, what's with your partner?"

"What do you mean?" Jim asked.

"She doesn't seem to like us," Mitch explained.

Jim shrugged. "I have no idea. She hasn't said anything to me."

Junior looked up from his computer. "Hey Jimmy, I was wondering, you know they partnered you up with a real babe, don't you?"

Before Jim could respond, Mitch chimed in, "Yeah, she is _hot_, man."

Jim knew this conversation was coming, sooner or later. He adopted a quizzical expression. "Really?" he asked.

"C'mon, Jimmy, no one ever told you?" Junior asked.

"Jeez, Junior, he's pulling your leg," Mitch told him. "Right, Jimmy?"

"Yeah," Jim admitted. "I know."

"It must suck, that you can't see her," Junior observed, "but at least it gives you an excuse to get touchy-feely, know what I mean?"

Jim shook his head in resignation.

"So, Jimmy, are you two, you know – ?" Mitch asked.

Jim raised his left hand. "I'm a married man, remember?"

"That never stopped you before," Junior reminded him.

Anxious to steer the conversation in another direction, Jim told him, "Look, she's my partner – a good one. I'm not about to fuck that up."

"But she's not married, right?" Junior persisted. "I didn't see a ring."

"No, she's not," Jim confirmed.

"You really think she'd give you the time of day?" Mitch asked skeptically.

"A guy can always hope," Junior declared.

_Scene Four_

"Jimmy? Are you home?" Christie called as she walked in the door.

"Over here."

She looked toward the living room, where Jim was sitting on the couch, still in his work clothes, distractedly scratching Hank's ears. He looked drained. Christie hurried over to the couch and sat next to him, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"You look exhausted. Rough day?"

"You could say that," he agreed.

"I think you need to tell me about it."

He took a deep breath. "The lieutenant sent Karen and me to the 2-5. They have a case that's probably related to an old case I worked while I was there."

Christie rubbed his neck, feeling the tension there. She knew how difficult it could be when Jim met up with people he'd known before losing his sight. Seeing his old squad mates wouldn't be easy. "So how'd it go?" she prompted him.

Jim sighed. "You remember Coop?"

"Yes, of course." Christie remembered him well. Next to Terry, Coop had been Jim's best friend in his old squad.

"Why can't he just get over it? It's been almost two years, for crissake."

"You know, Jimmy, Coop's always been kind of a mother hen. And he's an emotional guy. Maybe he just needs to spend some time with you, to see that you're okay. He never really had a chance to deal with it."

"I guess," Jim replied doubtfully, resting his chin on his hands.

Christie looked at him thoughtfully. "You've had plenty of experience with people who don't know how to deal with the blindness. What's so different about this?"

"I don't know." Jim pondered the question for a moment. "I thought maybe they'd be able to see past it, you know? I mean, I worked with these guys every day for three years. They know me."

"But to them, the blindness makes all the difference," Christie pointed out. "That's all they can see right now."

"I guess."

"They'll be able to see past it – just give them time. But . . . you know, Jimmy, maybe they don't know you anymore, not really. And I don't mean because you're blind."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes," Christie replied firmly. "You're not the same guy they knew. For one thing, the guy who worked at the 2-5 would not have been sitting here, talking to me."

She squeezed his shoulder and gave him a kiss, then went to the bedroom to change. When she returned a few minutes later, Jim was still sitting on the couch, thinking. She asked, tentatively, "Jimmy?"

"Yeah."

"Where were you?"

"Just – thinking."

She laughed. "I know. Let's have some dinner. After that, I think I can find a way to take your mind off your old squad."

"Sounds good to me." Smiling to himself, Jim followed his wife into the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

Episode 19: "You Can't Go Home Again"

_Day Two_

_Scene One_

Jim climbed into the front seat of the car, after closing the rear door behind Hank. As Karen pulled away from the curb, he turned toward her. "I was thinking . . . maybe we've been looking in the wrong place for a connection between the two homicides."

"Where do you think we should look, then?"

"Maybe it all began with Ellen Milner's death."

"But she died of a heart attack," Karen pointed out.

"She did," Jim agreed. "But I was thinking – she was only 42. That's awfully young to just die of a heart attack. What if something – or someone – caused the heart attack?"

"I still don't understand how that connects to the kids," Karen protested.

"I'm not sure, either," Jim admitted.

"Let's run it by the lieutenant," Karen suggested. "It's not as if we have any great leads so far."

Jim nodded. "Yeah."

Jack McConnell leaned back in his chair, studying the two detectives standing on the opposite side of his desk. Jim's idea about Ellen Milner's death seemed pretty far-fetched to him, but he'd seen too many of Jim's hunches pan out to dismiss his theory out of hand. Besides, he didn't want to close off any paths in the investigation at this point.

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

"I thought we'd have the ME pull the reports on Ellen Milner and see if it's possible the heart attack was brought on something or someone external. Then, I'd like to go talk to Sister Angie at 'Safe Haven' and see if she remembers anything else about Richie – maybe something we didn't think was important two and a half years ago."

McConnell pursed his lips. "Okay," he told them, "Do it."

As they walked back to their desks, Karen asked, "'Sister Angie'? 'Safe Haven'?"

Jim explained. "Sister Angela Carletti runs 'Safe Haven,' a program for street kids over on 121st Street. Richie spent some time there when he was on the streets. She got to know him pretty well."

A few minutes later, Jim hung up the phone and turned toward Karen. "It'll take the ME a few hours to pull the file on Ellen Milner and review it. Let's head over to Sister Angie's."

When they reached the front door of the station house, Jim ordered Hank to turn right.

"Where're you going, Jim?" Karen asked. "The car is to our left."

"It's only a couple of blocks, Karen. Hank needs a walk – and so do I."

"Okay. So tell me some more about Sister Angie."

"She's the best friend the street kids in this neighborhood have. For a lot of them, she's the only adult they've ever known who hasn't abused, or used, or victimized them in some way. Oh, and don't be fooled by 'Sister Angie.' She has a Ph.D. in adolescent psychology. If anyone can tell us what was going on with Richie, it's her."

"Safe Haven" was a storefront on East 121st Street. A couple of kids were hanging out by the front door. They stared openly at Jim and Hank as they approached, then took off when Jim and Karen turned toward the entrance. Inside, several groupings of mismatched chairs and tables were scattered around the room. Two obsolete-looking computers sat on battered desks in one corner. A television, turned off, occupied the opposite corner. Shelves along one wall held books, videos, and games. Another wall was covered with drawings and artwork created by the kids who found refuge there. Two teenagers were playing air hockey at the far end of the room. A petite, fifty-ish woman was sitting at a desk near the entrance. She was casually dressed, the only sign of her religious vocation a crucifix hanging from a chain around her neck. She looked up when Jim and Karen walked in.

"Jim Dunbar!" she exclaimed. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"Sister Angie," Jim said, walking toward her and extending a hand.

She stood to take his hand, then turned toward Karen. "And you are?"

"Sorry," Jim said, "my partner, Detective Karen Bettancourt."

"And who is this handsome fellow with you, Jim?"

"His name is Hank. I'd introduce you formally, but he's working right now."

"Understood. It's wonderful to see you, Jim, but I'm guessing this isn't a social call."

"That's right. You heard about Kimmie Milner?"

"Yes. One of my kids found her."

Jim grimaced. "Ouch." Karen looked a little sick.

"He was one of the fragile ones, too. He didn't need to be traumatized further." Angie paused, then continued. "But you didn't come here to talk about him. I take it you want to ask about Richie."

"Yes. Two kids in the same family being murdered in the same way can't be a coincidence. We're trying to find out what the connection is."

"Well," Angie began, "Richie wasn't like most of my kids. The main difference was that he wasn't running away from a bad family situation, as far as I could tell. He came from an intact family – at least until his mom died – and there was no history of abuse in the home. He was running away from something, but it wasn't that. Most of my kids come from bad family situations – if you can even call them families – and most of them have been physically, sexually, or emotionally abused – sometimes all three. Then there are the kids who've been discarded. They come home from school one day, and the whole family has cleared out, leaving them behind. But none of this applied to Richie."

Karen spoke up. "What do you think was going on with him? If his family life was so good, why run away?"

"He never told me why he left," Angie replied, "so all I can give you is an educated guess. All of my kids are afraid – being on the streets will do that to you. But Richie's fearfulness was extreme, even for a street kid. Sometimes he even seemed to regress – he was like a little kid, afraid of the bogey man. But I think his bogey man was a real person. I don't know who it was, or why Richie was afraid of him. But he was definitely afraid of something real."

"Could it have been his dad?" Karen asked.

"I don't think so. Richie talked about him a lot. He was homesick, he missed his dad. He never said anything to suggest he was afraid of him." Angie shook her head. "No, I'm pretty sure it was someone else."

"Did Richie ever talk about his mother's death?" Jim asked.

"Yes, a lot. Aside from his extreme fear, that was his major stressor."

"Do you think there was a connection?"

"You mean between his fear and his mother's death?" Angie asked. "Let me think." She sat down, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes for a moment, considering Jim's question. Then she opened her eyes and sat up. "There could be. I remember once, when he was talking about her death, he said there was something he couldn't tell me about it. Clearly, he was afraid to tell me about it. That's not much, I know. . . .Is there something suspicious about his mother's death?"

"We don't know," Jim told her. After a moment, he went on. "It was good to see you again, Angie – and thank you."

"Any time, Jim."

_Scene Two_

When Jim and Karen arrived back at the precinct, Coop was reporting to McConnell on the results of Kimmie's autopsy.

"ME confirmed the cause of death was blunt force head trauma, multiple blows from something like a metal pipe. She was probably unconscious after the first hard blow, but it took several hours for the brain swelling to kill her. Time of death was sometime between 8 and 11 p.m."

"Any other injuries?" Jim asked.

"Some bruising around her wrists, as if the killer grabbed her," Coop replied. "Also some bruising on her forearms, probably defense injuries from raising them up in front of her face to ward off the blows. There were also some scrapes on her legs, probably from being dragged while she was unconscious."

"That it?" McConnell asked.

"Yeah, basically," Coop told him.

"Okay. Jimmy, did you find out anything useful from Sister Angie?"

"As a matter of fact, we did. She remembered that Richie was unusually fearful, even for a street kid. She thought his fear had something to do with his mother's death, but she didn't know what, specifically. Maybe Richie knew something about his mother's death that made him a threat to someone. That would explain a lot."

Karen spoke up. "The ME is looking at the reports on Ellen Milner, to see if something, or someone, could have brought on the heart attack. We're still waiting to hear from her."

"Keep me informed," McConnell ordered as he returned to his office.

Karen turned to Jim. "I'm getting some coffee. You want some?" she asked.

"No, I'm good, but thanks."

Karen grabbed her empty coffee cup and strode through the squad room, without as much as a glance at the other detectives. Coop followed her to the locker room. He was puzzled by her animosity toward them. Sure, it had been a little awkward at first – not knowing what to do or say when Jimmy arrived – but that had passed quickly. Coop had gone out of his way to make Karen feel welcome, but she could barely be civil to them. He was determined to find out why.

He closed the door behind him. "Hey, Karen," he greeted her.

When she continued pouring her coffee without responding, he continued. "I'm hoping you can help me out here, because I don't know what's going on. . . ."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"C'mon, Karen, you've had an attitude ever since you got here. But you don't even know us. What have we ever done to you?"

She set down her coffee cup and turned toward him. "It's not about me. It's what you did to Jim."

"What do you think we did?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes, I do."

"Okay, then, it makes me sick to see you guys all buddy-buddy with him, after the way you bailed on him after he got shot. What kind of friend does that?"

"Is that what you think happened?" Coop asked.

"No, that's what I know happened. On the way over here yesterday, when I asked about you guys, Jim told me he didn't even know who was still here, because you hadn't kept in touch. I couldn't believe it. A guy who would put his life on the line for you – hell, knowing Jim, he probably did – and you assholes couldn't be bothered to keep in touch with him because he's blind. Some friends."

"So that's it," Coop mused. "How long have you been a detective, Karen?"

Startled by the sudden change of subject, she replied, "About two years."

"Long enough to know not to make assumptions when you don't have all the evidence," he observed.

"Yeah. So what evidence don't I have?"

"It didn't happen the way you think it did, Karen. Jimmy pushed us away. He made it pretty clear he didn't want anything to do with us, and eventually, we just stopped trying."

"I don't understand. . . ."

"I don't, either – not really," Coop told her. "I went to see him a few times, back then. After the doctors told him it – the blindness – was permanent, he had a very rough time. That's when he started pushing everyone away. Aside from his wife, the only person he would talk to was Walter Clark. I thought maybe he just needed some space, but we never re-connected."

"So you're saying it's Jim's fault?"

"No, Karen, it s no one's fault. It just happened that way. Sure, I could have tried harder – we all could have – and I regret that I didn't. But have you ever been able to make Jimmy do something he didn't want to do?"

Karen smiled a little, in spite of herself, and shook her head. "You got that right."

"Bottom line, Jimmy didn't want us around back then. I wish I'd tried to re-connect before now, but after seeing him yesterday and today, I'm not sure he wants to re-connect with any of us from before. I guess he has his reasons. I just don't know what they are." A look of sadness crossed Coop's face. "You know, I still miss him sometimes – I mean, the Jimmy I used to know. I'm not sure I know your partner."

Karen looked down. She didn't know what to say. Finally, she looked up. "I misjudged you, Coop. I'm sorry."

"No apology needed. I'm glad he has a friend like you."

When she got back to her desk, Karen sat silently, pondering what Coop had told her and glancing at Jim from time to time. She'd always assumed Jim had had a tough time after he lost his sight, but he never talked about it, and she knew she would never ask. Still, she didn't understand what would make him push away the people who could have supported him and helped him get through his ordeal. She'd thought she was finally getting to know her partner, but maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought she did.

_Scene Three_

"Cause of death was definitely a heart attack," Dr. Taylor told Karen and Jim, seated across the desk from her in her cramped office. "But there are some – anomalies."

"What sort of 'anomalies'?" Jim asked.

Dr. Taylor rustled the papers in the file in front of her. "She had hypertension and was a smoker, and she had an enlarged heart – which is an indication of heart disease. So she was definitely a candidate for a heart attack. But as you pointed out when we spoke on the phone, 42 is a relatively young age for that, even considering her risk factors."

Dr Taylor turned the pages in the file until she found the photographs. She handed several of them to Karen. "There are several injuries which, in my opinion, are not adequately explained in the original report. She had some lacerations to the front and sides of the head, which were thought to have occurred when she fell. But their locations are not consistent with hitting her head when she fell. And looking at the photos taken at the scene, I don't see anything on which she could have hit the front or sides of her head when falling. So it is my opinion that there is some other mechanism for these injuries."

"Such as?" Jim asked.

"The most likely explanation is that she was struck by some object. This would also explain the heart attack."

"But how?" Karen protested, gesturing at the photos. "These injuries look pretty minor."

"They are," Dr. Taylor agreed. "The injuries themselves are not life-threatening. But if she was involved in a physical struggle and sustained these injuries, the resulting physical and emotional stress could be enough to trigger a heart attack, given her underlying disease."

"How was this missed?" Jim demanded. "We need to talk to whoever did the autopsy."

"That would be Dr. Robert Whitley," Dr. Taylor told him, a disapproving tone in her voice. "If you want to talk to him, you're going to have to make a trip to Florida. He retired a couple of months after this case."

"Great," Jim said, frowning. "Just so we're clear – it's possible she was in a fight of some kind, and this triggered her heart attack?"

"Yes."

Jim thought for a minute, then stood and took Karen's arm. "Thank you," he told Dr. Taylor as they left. While they were walking down the hall, Jim thought out loud. "We need to find out what was going on in Ellen's life."

"Yeah." Karen agreed. "Let's head back."

_Scene Four_

As she walked down the hall, Karen heard voices coming from the squad room. When she realized what they were talking about, she stopped to listen.

". . . so, like I've said before, guys, it doesn't add up. There's something they're not telling us," Mitch declared. "You know, Terry couldn't hardly show his face around here after Jimmy was shot. He transferred out of here so fast – "

"You're right," Junior said. "Terry was fucked up after Jimmy was shot – and it wasn't just on account of Jimmy getting hurt. I asked him a coupla times how Jimmy got shot, but he never really gave me an answer."

"Me, too," Mitch agreed. "You know, I was at the scene, after, and I couldn't figure out why Jimmy had to leave cover to take out the perp. It sure looked to me like Terry had a clear shot at him from where he was." He shook his head. "Someone's covering up something. . . ."

While Mitch was speaking, Karen started walking toward the squad room. Then she stopped, remembering what Jim had reluctantly told her: Terry hadn't "stepped up" as much as he could have, that day at the bank.

"What're you saying?" Junior demanded. "You think Jimmy covered for Terry? I don't buy it. He got hurt bad – he's blind, for crissake. If Terry blew it, why would Jimmy cover for him?"

"I dunno," Mitch admitted, "but I can see Jimmy doing something like that. . . ." He broke off as Karen entered the squad room.

"Hey, Karen, where's Jimmy?" Coop asked.

"Walking the dog."

Mitch resumed the discussion. "Then Terry gets shot by 'accident' a few months back – when he just happens to be working a case with Jimmy. And now he's off the job. What's up with that?"

"Drop it, Mitch," Karen told him.

"Why?" he protested. "We deserve to know."

"You don't want to go there," Karen said firmly, as Jim and Hank walked into the squad room.

Mitch ignored her. "Hey, Jimmy, you heard from Terry recently?"

Jim stopped short. "No." Karen could see his jaw clench as he walked the rest of the way to his desk. She glared at Mitch.

McConnell emerged from his office. "Can it, Kozlowski. Karen, Jimmy, did you get anything from the ME?"

"We did," Jim said. He began summarizing what the ME had told them. Still glaring at Mitch, Karen sat down at her desk and folded her arms. Her anger dissipated as she thought about what Mitch had said, and she realized she now knew what happened the day Jim was shot.


	3. Chapter 3

Episode 19: "You Can't Go Home Again"

_Day Three_

_Scene One_

Deanna Robertson sat across from Karen and Jim at the kitchen table in her Staten Island home. "You're investigating Kimmie's murder?" she asked.

"That's right," Jim affirmed. "And Richie's."

"I can't believe it – those darling children. Poor Rick, he must be out of his mind with grief." She took a deep breath. "How can I help?"

"Mr. Milner – Rick – told us you were his wife Ellen's best friend. We're looking into what was going on in her life, just before she died."

"But she had a heart attack. . . .Does her death have something to do with – what happened to Richie and Kimmie?"

"We don't know," Jim replied. "We're just looking at all the possibilities. Does anything come to mind?"

Deanna sat back, her arms folded, and thought for a minute. "You know, there was something bothering her that last week before she died. I'm not sure what it was. . . . Give me a minute." She sat back again and closed her eyes, thinking. "It had something to do with Rick's law practice. He had a big trial going. It had already lasted two months. In fact, he was in court when Richie found her. Anyway, Rick was working really long hours on this trial, and Ellen was helping out at the office. Ellen told me Rick always used to say his partner is a great lawyer but a terrible business man. So, while Rick was in this trial, Ellen was helping out with the business end of things, you know, the accounts and bookkeeping, that kind of thing. And I think she discovered something. . . ."

"What was it?" Karen prompted.

"I'm not sure. She never said specifically, but I think there was some irregularity in one of the firm's accounts, possibly some money missing. And . . . it wasn't just the money that was bothering her. I remember she said something about being betrayed, and how awful it was not to be able to trust your own family."

"She suspected a family member of taking the money?" Karen asked.

Deanna shook her head. "She never said that, in so many words. But that was my impression. That's all I can remember."

"Thank you for your time," Karen said, handing her a business card. "If you think of anything else that might help, please call us."

"Yes, of course." Deanna walked them to the door. As she opened the door, she said, "Wait a minute. There _is_ something else. It was kind of odd. . . ."

"Yes?" Karen prompted her.

"She asked me, around that same time, what were the signs that someone was doing drugs. I told her I didn't really know. I mean, I'm probably the last person who would know something like that. That's why I thought it was so odd, her asking me about it . . ."

"She suspected someone she knew was doing drugs?" Jim asked.

Deanna shook her head. "She didn't say that – and she never mentioned the subject again."

As they turned to leave, Jim stopped short. "By the way, do you know who does the accounting for Rick's law firm?"

"Oh, I'm sure it's Rick's brother Don. He's an accountant, you know."

As they walked to the car, Jim said, "We need to look into the brother."

"Yeah."

_Scene Two_

Jim hung up the phone and swivelled his chair toward Karen's desk. "Karen?"

Mitch answered him instead. "She went down the hall while you were on the phone. Want me to find her for you?"

"No, thanks, I got it."

Jim stood and walked down the hallway toward the locker room, trailing a hand along the wall. As he approached the doorway, he heard Junior's voice, coaxing and flirtatious. "You know, honey, you're the prettiest thing we've had around here in a long time – "

Karen's voice was low, but Jim could tell she was annoyed. "I'm not your 'honey'."

Jim stopped in the doorway. "Karen? Am I interrupting something?"

Junior answered him. "Hey, Jimmy, no problem, I was just talking to your pretty partner here." He glanced back at Karen, then walked toward the door. As he pushed past Jim, he confided, "I thought maybe I'd get lucky, you know?"

Jim didn't respond. He spoke to Karen instead. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You want me to talk to him?"

In spite of herself, Karen gave a little laugh. "No, Jim, I can handle a guy hitting on me. You don't need to 'look out' for me."

"At least I asked this time," Jim pointed out, grinning.

"Yeah, you learn fast, I'll give you that."

"If you change your mind, let me know."

"Thanks. Let's just get this case wrapped up so we can get out of here."

Jim nodded.

"So – were you looking for me?" Karen asked.

"Yeah, I just got off the phone with Don Milner's assistant. She says he left the office a little before three o'clock on the afternoon Kimmie disappeared, and he didn't return. He didn't say where he was going, just that she could reach him on his cell."

"We need to find out if he made or received any calls and where his cell phone was at the time."

"Yeah."

_Scene Three_

Karen hung up the phone. "Jim?"

When Jim didn't respond, she tried again, raising her voice. "Jim?" That got his attention.

"Sorry. I guess I was thinking."

"Yeah," Karen replied. "So what's new?"

"What've you got?"

"Phone security says there was a call from Don Milner's cell to his home at about 6 p.m. on the day Kimmie disappeared. It was routed through a site at 124th and Second."

"I think it's time to have a conversation with Richie and Kimmie's Uncle Don."

"Yeah," Karen agreed.

"I'll take Hank out, then we'll go get him."

After Jim and Hank left, Mitch asked her, "Hey, Karen, does he do that a lot?"

"What?"

"Jimmy – does he zone out like that a lot?"

"Sometimes – when he's thinking. Why?"

"Just curious. I never saw him do that before. I mean, Jimmy's a hell of a smart detective – he was always coming up with ideas, you know, like out of left field. But this is different, like he's someplace else. Is it because he – uh – can't see?"

Karen shrugged. "I don't know. I never worked with him when he could see, so. . . ."

"Yeah," Mitch said. He shook his head. "It's so weird . . . He's Jimmy, but he's not Jimmy, you know what I mean?"

"I guess. . . ," Karen said doubtfully. "Like I said, I didn't know him before."

"I tell you, he was a real piece of work, when he could see."

"He still is," Karen assured him.

_Scene Four_

Karen and Jim escorted Don Milner into the interview room. Closing the door behind them, they went back to their desks to confer before questioning him.

"I got an idea," Jim said. "Well, it's really your idea. . . "

"Yeah?"

"Can you go through the files and pull out autopsy pictures of Ellen, Richie, and Kimmie?"

"Sure."

They returned to the interview room, Jim following Karen and trailing his hand along the table until he reached the chair opposite Milner. Karen stood by the windows, holding the pictures.

"Here's how it is, Don," Jim began as he sat down. "We already know most of what happened, but we're going to give you a chance to tell us in your own words."

Milner sat back, his arms folded. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Jim shook his head. "That's not the way to play this, Don. It's too late for that. We know you did Richie and Kimmie. All you can do now is give your brother some closure by telling the whole story."

Karen stepped forward and put the pictures on the table in front of Milner, one by one. "Ellen. Richie. Kimmie. Look at them."

Milner swallowed hard and turned his head away, but said nothing.

"I said, look at them," Karen ordered.

Milner shook his head, still looking away from the photos.

Jim spoke up. "Let's start at the very beginning, with Ellen."

"Ellen?" Milner asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, Ellen. She found out what you were up to, but you already know that. What you don't know is that she told someone."

"What?"

"We know you were embezzling money from your brother's law firm and cooking the books to hide it. And we know Ellen figured it out. Why'd you do it, huh? Was it to get money for drugs? We know about your DWI, too. You weren't drunk, you were on pills."

"What happened?" Karen asked, leaning across the table.

Milner's eyes shifted back and forth from Jim to Karen, but he said nothing.

"We know Ellen confronted you, and you argued," Karen told him. "Then you hit her. Did you know you'd killed her?"

Milner looked at her and frowned. "You can't prove anything – you're just guessing," he told her.

"Not according to the Medical Examiner," Karen replied.

Jim picked up the narrative. "You must have thought you were in the clear when they said it was a heart attack. But you weren't. Richie knew you were there when his mother died. How'd you find out he knew?"

Milner sat silently, his arms still folded. When it was clear Milner wasn't going to answer, Karen did. "He was just a kid – he must have slipped up somehow. It doesn't matter how. What matters is that you knew he was a threat – if anyone found out why Ellen had a heart attack, it would all come out – the money you took and the drugs you bought with it." She paused, glaring at him.

Jim continued where Karen left off. "So you decided he had to die," he said harshly. "You couldn't risk him telling. Then he gave you the slip, didn't he? You didn't expect him to take off like he did."

"Don't you have something to do besides making up this shit?" Milner asked scornfully.

"But you found him. You 'helped' Rick search for him and watched the shelters for street kids, right? Then you got lucky and spotted him at Sister Angie's." Jim walked around the table and stood over Milner. "And when you found him, you made damn sure he wouldn't tell anyone anything, ever again." He gestured in the general direction of the photos on the table. "Remember what he looked like with his head caved in? I do."

Jim walked back around the table, sat down opposite Milner, and took off his dark glasses. "What about Kimmie? What did she do, to be dumped under that bridge and left to die?" Milner inhaled audibly. "That's right, Don," Jim told him coldly, "she wasn't dead when you dumped her there. It took hours for her to die."

"Look at her," Karen demanded, pointing at Kimmie's picture.

"No," Milner whispered, looking away.

"Tell us – what happened."

He shook his head. "I'm not talking to you. I want a lawyer."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes."

Jim shrugged. "Your brother has given us access to his books. When the white-collar crime guys are finished going through them, it won't make any difference whether you talk or not. You can go – for now."

After escorting Milner out of the squad room, Karen returned to the interview room to collect the pictures. Jim was still there, sitting silently at the table. Karen picked up the pictures, and Jim followed her back to his desk. He sat down wearily. "Coop?" he asked.

"Right here, Jimmy."

"If he doesn't go for it, we don't have enough, do we?"

"No, I don't think so," Coop answered reluctantly.

"Son of a bitch – I know he's good for the murders."

"Yeah."

"When the financial-crime guys finish going over the records, at least we can nail him for the embezzlement," Karen pointed out.

"That's not enough," Jim told her.

"I know."

_Scene Five_

By late afternoon, Jim and Karen had finished their reports. McConnell came out of his office. "Karen, Jimmy," he said, "I just talked to your boss on the phone. He needs you back downtown."

"Okay," Karen replied.

"You did good work here, you two," McConnell told them. "It's not your fault the guy lawyered up." He paused for a moment, then added, "Uh, Jimmy, you know I had my doubts at first when you told me you wanted to come back on the job. I just want to say . . . well, this is one time I don't mind being proved wrong."

"I appreciate that."

"And don't be a stranger," McConnell said as he went back to his office.

Coop watched Jim and Karen pack up their belongings. When they were ready to go, he stood up, extending his hand. "Karen, it was a pleasure working with you. I hope this guy," he jerked his head in Jim's direction, "knows how lucky he is to have you as a partner."

Karen laughed as she shook Coop's hand. "He does. I remind him every day. Take care, Coop."

Coop looked at Jim for a moment, then gave him a parting hug. "Jimmy," he said, "Man, it was so good to see you. I just . . . I needed to see for myself that you're really okay. Take care of yourself, you hear?"

When Coop released him, Jim answered, "It was good to see you, too, Coop. Say good-bye to Mitch and Junior for us, okay?"

"Sure."

Jim grasped Hank's harness. "Ready?"

"Let's go."

As they walked out of the squad room and down the hall, Jim let out a breath, puffing out his cheeks. Karen looked at her partner thoughtfully, realizing he was as relieved as she was to be leaving his old squad behind.


End file.
